


Unlikely Bonds

by Tallihensia



Series: Bonds of Blood and Commandos [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Character Backgrounds, Friendship, Gen, Howling Commandos timeframe, Japanese Internment, Japanese-American Character, Prejudice, Talkies, WWII, War, ally - Freeform, coming together, families, introspective, racisim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallihensia/pseuds/Tallihensia
Summary: Captain America put together the best for his Commandos, and respects them... but the rest of the US Army has some ways to go on that "respecting all" part.  Jim and Bucky share a moment across the boundaries and learn a bit more about the other.





	Unlikely Bonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noxelementalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxelementalist/gifts).



> Trigger warnings for racism, discussion of Japanese Internment.
> 
> My favorite line in Captain America was, "I'm from Fresno, Ace." A moment that went by quickly in the movie, but meant so very much beyond it.
> 
> Fic for Noxelementalist who wanted something in the worlds that wasn't a standard pairing, with a minority character.

## Unlikely Bonds

Taking out a Hydra base was snazzy; good times and satisfaction all rolled into one swell package. Working with Captain America was also cool – the Cap respected the men with him and let his squad assemble around him to the best of their abilities. Rather than telling them what they should do, Cap let them tell him. 

One Hydra base down. Many more to go. For now, a break at camp to regroup and study the next target.

When they'd first gotten into this camp, Jim, Gabe, and Jacques had gone to the bar, while Dum Dum and James went to the more privileged USO center. The Cap and Bucky had taken themselves off somewhere else, as the two of them usually did. "Reporting in," they called it. Sometimes, they were probably even doing that.

After some time, Gabe and Jacques took off. Jim stayed, continuing work on the communications diagram that he and Jacques had been modifying, with Gabe's help. One of these days, Jim swore he was going to learn French. Jacques was getting better at English, but not for the details.

A random, belligerent voice pulled him from his concentration. "What is that? A Jap?" 

Jim wasn't completely sure they were talking about him – the voice wasn't real close, but a careful glance around didn't show any other Asians in the bar. The aggressive guy was sitting at the bar, it looked like, but not coming over yet. Jim's table was in the corner, out of the way for most people.

With a sigh, Jim went back to his drawing, making sure he had the details down in case a fight destroyed the original. He wouldn't start anything... but he had no problems finishing it if it happened.

"Why the hell are we serving dirty Japs in here? Ain't this an American base? No enemies allowed!"

"Why the hell are we serving Germans here?" came a smoother voice. "Because I swear, you look just like one! Look at that pale skin, that florid complexion, that hair! And oh, look! An Italian. Must be a fascist." 

"I ain't no Nazi! I'm from Cincinnati!"

"Hey, I'm a US Citizen!"

"America's a melting pot!"

Jim grinned to himself and reached for his beer. Maybe he'd sit this one out.

"Really? A melting pot?" The smooth voice projected astonishment. And Jim knew that voice... but he wasn't going to turn around yet. He'd wait for it a bit longer. This was fun. And surprising.

"America is made of up people who look just like the ones we're fighting? You don't say! I'm astonished. So you mean us in this war over here... but if we look like them, shouldn't we be the enemy?"

"It doesn't work that way!" "My grandfather—" "Not all of them are Nazis!"

There were more outbursts that time, and Bucky just went on mocking them and himself as well, constantly throwing it back at them about the judgements based on looks alone. The ultimate came when Bucky started in with a red Irish about how Bucky looked like a black Irish (hair, not skin, Jim reminded himself), and got everybody completely confused.

Jim laughed and finally turned around to look.

Bucky blinked. "Oh, hey, Jim. Didn't realize it was you. Guess you didn't need my help,"

"Need? Maybe not," Jim admitted, "But I was enjoying the show. It was a very fine show."

There was a hint of red in Bucky's face as he collected a beer of his own from the bar and then swung a chair out to sit down. "I saw Gabe in the tents. Thought you all had come in."

Jim unrolled the diagram and turned it for Bucky to see. "I had an idea I wanted to finish."

Bucky looked over the drawing, nodding, but obviously not absorbing the details. He swallowed his beer without comment.

Behind them, the rest of the bar was moving on, their conversation no longer on Japs or Germans. Those that hadn't figured it out were ignoring it, the moment having passed by. Not exactly resolved, but at least defused for now.

"You're good at that," Jim observed with a bit of surprise. Bucky was straight-up white and melded easily with the USO privilege. He stuck close to Captain America during missions, and while he was friendly with all, and absolutely reliable in the field, he wasn't one Jim would have predicted for jumping in. 

"I can't understand it worth a darn," Bucky admitted, squinting at the diagram. "But if you and Jacques think it'll help, Steve will make sure it gets done."

Jim swallowed his grin with another sip of beer. "I meant the show." What the hell. He let the grin show too.

There was a moment when the general ease that Bucky normally held himself with disappeared and the wary stillness of the soldier took its place, evaluating everything around him. His eyes showed the pain that was with him all the time now, instead of masking it under his good humor. 

Jim mentally backed up a notch. He'd hit on something he hadn't known was there. But he wanted to know more – Bucky had him curious, and he'd surprised him. Best way to get information often was to trade it. "My grandparents came to America in 1870. Well, Hawaii, where they met. Then after that got messy and annexed, they came on to San Francisco, then up to Fresno where they settled." That skipped over a lot of history, but got the basics.

Bucky tilted his head. "My parents came over in 1915 – had me right after. So you're more American than I am. Where's Fresno? Idaho?" 

Jim laughed. "California. Like San Francisco, only hotter. Much hotter. "

Bucky laughed as well, directed at himself without any issues. "I'm not any good at map stuff unless it's for a mission. Just a city kid from Brooklyn."

Reaching for the beer again, Jim eyed Bucky. Nobody was that simple. Though they had noticed Bucky didn't have much of the schooling background. He was deadly with sniper fire, and by all reports had been a good leader before the capture. Now, he left the leading to Cap, though a damn fine second to back him up. 

Jim was trying to poke at Bucky, to figure him out underneath the charm, but Bucky was harder than he looked. "You got family?" 

"Sisters, Mom." Bucky smiled. "They're a terror. Beck thinks she's an adult now, and that's even scarier. They write all the time." All of them had seen the thick envelopes Bucky got – they'd thought it was girlfriends, mostly. "Mom just got a job in one of the sorting factories. Beck wanted one too, but we talked her into applying for one of those secretarial positions opening up – I know they're mostly held by men, but with so many guys in the war, women are sometimes getting them instead. It would be a good step up. Stake wants to get a job too, but we're forcing her to stay in school. Not be a drop-out like me."

Ah. That explained part of it. Jim had to ask, though, "Stake?"

The famous Bucky grin bloomed across his face; full of humor and good cheer, inviting all in with him. "Stacy. When I started being called Buck, and Rebecca, Beck, Stacy didn't want to get left out, so she declared she was Stake. It was too cute not to let her, though Mom doesn't join in. She'll regret it when she starts walking out, I'm sure."

Jim laughed. Then he continued the trade. "My family had a small nursery in Fresno. Grew plants. Started when my grandfather brought over a bonsai with him from Japan... he taught my dad to care for it, and my dad was teaching me. I worked mostly on the systems in the nursery, fixing and improving them. My uncle farmed. My aunt worked in a restaurant. My sisters were sorting themselves out for what they wanted to do. My youngest brother was mad about cars – anything mechanical. When he was a kid, we couldn't leave anything around him or it would be taken apart."

Bucky stilled. "Was?" he asked in a low voice.

Jim shook his head. "Not that." War made you always think the worst, sometimes. "It was bad enough, but... not that, at least. 'Was' because three months after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, all of us Americans – Issei, Nisei, Sansei – anybody with a drop of Japanese blood, no matter how remote – we were all ordered to leave our homes with only what we could carry, no notice, no preparation, no arrangements... My family, my friends... they were imprisoned on the Fresno fairgrounds without even any real supplies – the fairgrounds, where we used to have fun and enjoy it all... They tossed my family there. Used to be our neighbors, now our guards. We hadn't a clue. Then into concentration camps. They're still there. My family. Not quite like what we busted those folks from last month... but not all that different either. Because my grandparents had thought we'd have a better life. Because we look like them. Because the business folks in Fresno wanted what we had and thought they had an easy way to take it. Because as much as we thought we were accepted, we weren't."

Bucky hadn't moved during the whole long exhale of stuff Jim rarely let out. 

He hadn't meant to dump all that. He'd started off with just the facts and then gotten angry as he went on. Out here in the middle of super-patriotic Americans, it just wasn't safe to criticize anything about what they'd done. Not about putting people in camps just like what they were going to another continent to free people from, nor about how when over there they were still kept separate. How even Gabe, whose family had been slaves before freemen but had been in America longer than most, how even he wasn't allowed in most USO centers. How even fighting for America and losing their lives for America apparently didn't mean a damn thing to most Americans they fought alongside – it was still their skin color and different looks that meant more.

The look in Bucky's eyes, though, said that he got it. For some weird reason, this Brooklyn boy understood. Jim liked the way he'd talked earlier – pointing out the very things that Jim couldn't say without them getting angry. They still had gotten angry, but were also confused since Bucky was one of theirs, at least on the surface.

"They're all alive," Jim offered, winding down from his anger. "Had to leave the bonsai, though. We don't know what happened to it." Or any of their stuff, really. But leaving the bonsai had hurt more than the rest. Like leaving a family member behind, in some ways.

Bucky finally let out his breath. Not a sigh, just an acknowledgement of the hard truths. He raised his hand and rubbed his chest, an unconscious gesture he sometimes made after they'd gotten out of Azzano. 

"Why'd you join the army?" Bucky's voice held both pain and confusion.

It was a genuine question, Jim thought. With Bucky seeing the things he usually kept hid. Just... misguided. Jim laughed a little bitterly. "Same reason we all joined – because what was happening over here was horrible, to support America, to fight for freedom, to stand up for what is right and fight evil." Jim paused while he read Bucky's confusion. Then he added, "I joined before Japan bombed Hawaii."

"Oooohhh..." Bucky's eyes went wide.

"Yeah." Jim shook his head. "It was obvious from early on that the US was going to go in, even if they were dragging their feet. I wanted to be ready to go when we did. I was done with basic and getting electronics training when... then they weren't sure what to do with us. Kept us spinning in circles, then did that to our families... then sent us over anyhow." Jim raised his head. "If my being over here can prove that we're not who they think they are, if everything I do can help my family, if my death will convince even one person that we're Americans, then I'll do my damn best." He paused again. "But I'd rather kill the evil bastards than be killed."

"Yeah." Bucky raised his mug and sipped his beer. "I was drafted. I didn't join. You're the better man."

Involuntarily, Jim felt his mouth drop open. He'd always thought that was an expression. Swallowing nothing, he closed it. He really, honestly, hadn't expected that. 

Bucky shrugged. "When the depression took everything away... I was 15. I dropped out of school because my family had nothing – no jobs, no way to get them. Mom tried her best, and the last bit of Dad's breath was spent trying... but school wasn't a paying job, and that's what we needed. The little bit of work there was went to the young and strong – and that I could do. Ten years later? I still work. Only make better than I did. Good thing, since the girls need more as they got older. And Stevie... his meds always cost, hospitals... he hates that I paid for it, but he's alive and that's what counts. Solider dues... it's good if you got nothing, but it's nothing compared to what I was making. And I had four lives to keep up. Honor is no good if you let those who depend on you down while out saving something else. And if I die? They get a pittance, and will still have to survive."

For all his family's current situation, that was never something that Jim had ever contemplated. They had family. When family was hurting, other family took them in. They sometimes ran thin, but never like what Bucky described. Until the US Government had stepped in and taken everything away from them. But even now... they still had each other. 

"Do you need...?" he asked hesitantly. It wasn't much, but it wasn't like they were letting his family have any of his pay, and now that they'd formed the Commandos, he'd be spending most of his time in the field, most likely. There, and places like here.

Bucky gave one of his rare, sweet grins. Unlike his famous grins that invited all to play, this one was almost shy, more personal and specific. The Commandos usually only saw that grin when he was talking with the Cap. "Nah, it's good. Stevie doesn't need any medicine anymore, and he's sending his pay home too – said my family was as good as his now, might as well – so Ma and the girls, they're swell. They'll do fine."

Jim nodded. It was strange to contemplate the Cap as a sick little fellow, even though they'd all been told about it. He lifted his mug and found no more beer in it. He didn't want a refill, it was late. But he still hadn't quite gotten where he was going for originally. 

"Why'd you do it, Bucky?" Jim decided on the direct approach. He didn't think he'd get there any other way, though the between had been interesting enough. "You didn't even know it was me." And would have let him fight his own fight if he had, which was also weird, if kind of nice. 

Bucky flushed again, ducking his head slightly. "I don't like bullies?"

Jim shook his head. Not enough.

Bucky sighed. He reached out and touched the diagram, tracing the lines with his finger a bit above, not smearing the lead. Jim didn't think it was actually the comms unit he was seeing.

"I grew up in Brooklyn, so did Steve. We were both little when we were young, like all kids. But then as we got older... I grew, and he didn't. I got strong... and he got weak. Started having all these medical issues – the asthma was horrible." Bucky shuddered. "But he was still Steve. Always Stevie – same brilliant mind, same eager enthusiasm, same way of dashing into things, same kid who always thought up the messes we'd get into. Difference was, now he couldn't do all of them. He'd sure try, though." Bucky grinned in reminisce, then turned serious again. "Then when we were together, ah, whenever we'd be together... they'd see me, not him. Always. Adults, teachers... girls, when we got old enough for that. It drove me crazy. He was worth twenty of me, but they only saw me. The outside always more important than inside. Steve was the special one, not me. But they never saw it. If he wasn't ignored, he was picked on." Bucky ran down, tried to say something else, then shrugged a little hopelessly.

"So you could see it." Jim nodded. "Because of Steve, you can see it when it happens to others."

"I guess." Bucky looked uncomfortable. "It's not the same. I know it's not the same. And I know it's not... none of that stuff happened to me. We've not got it good, not like Stark or them... but still, I can fit in when I need to. It's... You know, before Azzano, Red Skull wore a human mask. I sometimes wonder... but I still look like me. And that me... they let me walk around without seeing inside. We're here to fight the enemy, but sometimes they think they can see it from the outside. And they can't."

All of them had nightmares from this war, but Bucky alone had been in the experiments at Azzano, the ones nobody else returned from. Bucky didn't typically talk about it. But then, Jim didn't normally talk about this other thing either. Different ways of being... something in common.

Jim reached his mug out across the table and held it in the air.

After a moment, Bucky picked up his own and touched it together. 

A moment together. Unlikely bonds as they were, that's what war was. And friendship.

Jim rolled up the diagram and they left the bar, walking side by side.

"Jim...?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a bonsai?"

* * *

END

**Author's Note:**

> Research and background done for this, but it's still me writing, so apologies if not quite right. Growing up, my next door neighbor had been in the camps – he didn't talk about it much, but it was part of everything. That line of Jim's in the movie... that's what we were, and are. And we should be better. Outside, inside... inside matters more. Always has, always will. 
> 
> Re the Marvel verse – movie verse, smatterings of comic references, but mostly making a new one based on what I saw of the characters. And for story. 
> 
> Potential sequel where Bucky goes to the tech school to visit Jim's grandson. Can't quite fit that into movie canon, but oh well. I want to find out what happened to the bonsai. (Okay, I already know. But...)
> 
> Secretarial note more from WWI than II, but still happening then too.
> 
> (Yes, I know I've got other things I need to finish. It's been a really long summer... I thought if I did a series of shorter, quick ficlets, it would be easier to throw myself back into writing mode.)


End file.
